Paul came home from work (also a few months ago) feeling really happy and proud of himself. Something great had happened. A promotion, a paper published- I really can't even recall since good stuff happens to this kid all the time.
So he comes home to celebrate with a 6 pack of delicious beer. I, having bronchitis, am happy to sit quietly watching the Bachelor so I scoot him outside. And may or may not have locked the door behind him. Every once in awhile I would peer out and see him listening to the radio, wandering around the backyard, and chattering on his phone. Because of my early bedtime, I
Always the early riser, Paul left before I had even woken up. Heading out to the living room I first notice the muddy footprints all over our floor. Then my eye goes to the neatly folded blanket on the couch. Finally, I spot something under the coffee table. What is that? I wonder as I step closer.
Ahhh yes. Just a half eaten sweet potato.
